Yet fhall not Scot nor Scotland fay
But I will Vengeance take,
And be revenged on them all
For brave Lord Piercy's Sake.
This Vow full well the King perform'd
After on Humble-down,

In one Day fifty Knights were flain,
With Lords of great Renown.
And of the reft of Small Account
Did many Thoufands die, &c.

At the fame time that our Poet fhews a laudable Partiality to his Countrymen, he represents the Scots after a Manner not unbecoming fo bold and brave a People. Earl Douglas on a milk-white Steed,

Moft like a Baron bold,
Rode foremost of the Company

Whofe Armour bone like Gold.

His Sentiments and Actions are every Way fuitable to an Hero. One of us two, fays he, muft die: I am an Earl as well as yourself, fo that you can have no Pretence for refufing the Combat: However, fays he, 'tis pity, and indeed would be a Sin, that fo many innocent Men should perish for our fakes, rather let you and I end our Quarrel in fingle Fight.

Ere thus I will out-braved be,
One of us two ball die;

I know thee well, an Earl thou art,
Lord Piercy, fo am 1.

But trust me, Piercy, Pity it were,
And great Offence, to kill
Any of thefe our harmless Men,

For they have done no Ill.

Let thou and I the Battle try,
And fet our Men afide;
Accurft be be, Lord Piercy faid,
By whom this is deny'd.

WHEN thefe brave Men had distinguished themfelves in the Battle and in fingle Combat with each other, in the Midst of a generous Parly, full of heroic Senti

ments,

ments, the Scotch Earl falls; and with his dying Words encourages his Men- to revenge his Death, reprefenting to them, as the most bitter Circumftance of it, that his Rival faw him fall.

With that there came an Arrow keen
Out of an English Bow,

Which ftruck Earl Douglas to the Heart
A deep and deadly Blow.

Who never spoke more Words than these,
Fight on my merry Men all,

For why, my Life is at an End,
Lord Piercy Jees my Fall.

Merry Men, in the Language of thofe Times, is no more than a chearful Word for Companions and Fellow-Soldiers. A Paffage in the Eleventh Book of Virgil's Eneids is very much to be admired, where Camilla in her last Agonies inflead of weeping over the Wound fhe had received, as one might have expected from a Warrior of her Sex, confiders only (like the Hero of whom we are now speaking) how the Battle fhould be continued after her Death.

Tum fic expirans Accam ex æqualibus unam
Alloquitur; fida ante alias quæ fola Camille,
.. Quicum partiri curas; atque hæc ita fatur:
Hactenus, Acca foror, potui: nunc vulnus acerbum
Conficit, et tenebris nigrefcunt omnia circum:
Effuge, et hæc Turno mandata noviffima perfer;
Succedat pugna, Trojanofque arceat urbe:
Jamque vale.
En. 11. v. 820.

A gathering Mift o'erclouds her chearful Eyes;
And from her Cheeks the rofy Colour flies,
Then turns to her, whom, of her Female Train,
She trufted moft, and thus fhe fpeaks with Pain.
Acca, 'tis paft! he fwims before my Sight,
Inexorable Death; and claims his Right.
Bear my last Words to Turnus, fly with Speed,
And bid him timely to my Charge fucceed.
Repel the Trojans, and the Town relieve:
Farewel.

DRYDEN.

TURNUS

TURNUS did not die in so heroick a Manner; tho' our Poet feems to have had his Eye upon Turnus's Speech in the last Verse,

Lord Piercy fees my Fall.

Vicifti, & victum tendere palmas
Aufonii videre

En. 12. v. 936. The Latian Chiefs have seen me beg my Life. DRYDEN,

EARL Piercy's Lamentation over his Enemy is generous, beautiful, and paffionate; I muft only caution the Reader not to let the Simplicity of the Stile, which one may well pardon in fo old a Poet, prejudice him against the Greatness of the Thought.

Then leaving Life, Earl Piercy took
The dead Man by the Hand,
And faid, Earl Douglas for thy Life
Would I had loft my Land.

O Chrift! My very Heart doth bleed
With Sorrow for thy Sake;
For fure a more renowned Knight
Mifchance did never take.

That beautiful Line, Taking the dead Man by the Hand, will put the Reader in mind of Eneas's Behaviour towards Laufus, whom he himself had Slain as he came to the Rescue of his aged Father.

At verò ut vultum vidit morientis, & ora,
Ora modis Anchifiades pallentia miris;

Ingemuit, miferans graviter, dextramque tetendit.

En. 10. v. 822.

The pious Prince beheld young Laufus dead;
He griev'd, he wept; then grafp'd his Hand, and faid, &c.
DRYDEN.

I fhall take another Opportunity to confider the other Farts of this old Song.

**

Tuesday,

N° 71.

Tuesday, May 22.

Scribere juffit amor.

Love bid me write.

Τ'

Ovid. Epift. 4. v. 10.

HE intire Conqueft of our Paffions is fo difficult a Work, that they who despair of it should think of a lefs difficult Task, and only attempt to Regulate them. But there is a third thing which may contribute not only to the Ease, but also to the Pleasure of our Life; and that is refining our Paffions to a greater Elegance, than we receive them from Nature. When the Paffion is Love, this Work is performed in innocent, tho' rude and uncultivated Minds, by the mere Force and Dignity of the Object. There are Forms which naturally create Refpect in the Beholders, and at once inflame and chastise the Imagination. Such an Impreffion as this gives an immediate Ambition to deferve, in order to please. This Caufe and Effect are beautifully defcribed by Mr. Dryden in the Fable of Cimon and Iphigenia. After he has reprefented Cimon fo ftupid, that

He whistled as he went, for want of Thought,

he makes him fall into the following Scene, and fhews its Influence upon him so excellently, that it appears as Natural as Wonderful.

It happen'd on a Summer's Holiday

That to the Greenwood-fhade he took his way;
His Quarter-ftaff, which he cou'd ne'er forfake,
Hung half before, and half behind his Back.
He trudg'd along unknowing what he fought,
And whiftled as he went, for want of Thought.
By Chance conducted, or by Thirft conftrain'd,
The deep Receffes of the Grove he gain'd;
Where in a Plain, defended by the Wood,
Crept thro' the matted Grafs a Crystal Flood,
By which an Alabafter Fountain ftood:

}

And

And on the Margin of the Fount was laid,
Attended by her Slaves) a fleeping Maid,

Like Dian, and her Nymphs, when, tir'd with Sport,
To reft by cool Eurotas they refort:

The Dame herself the Goddess well express'd,
Not more diftinguish'd by her Purple Veft,
Than by the charming Features of her Face,
And even in Slumber a fuperior Grace:
Her comely Limbs compos'd with decent Care,
Her Body faded with a flight Cymarr;
Her Bofom to the View was only bare:
The Fanning Wind upon her Bofom blows,
To meet the fanning Wind the Bofom rofe;
The fanning Wind and purling Streams continue her
Repofe.

The Fool of Nature ftood with ftupid Eyes
And gaping Mouth, that teftify'd Surprife,
Fix'd on her Face, nor could remove his Sight,
New as he was to Love, and Novice in Delight:
Long mute he flood, and, leaning on his Staff,
His Wonder witness'd with an Idiot Laugh;
Then would have spoke, but by his glimm'ring Senfe
First found his want of Words, and fear'd Offence:
Doubted for what he was he should be known,
By his Clown-Accent, and his Country Tone.

er S

BUT left this fine Defcription fhould be excepted against, as the Creation of that great Mafter, Mr. Dryden, and not an Account of what has really ever happened in the World; I fhall give you, verbatim, the Epiftle of an enamoured Footman in the Country to his Mistress. Their Sirnames fhall not be inferted, because their Paffion demands a greater Refpe&t than is due to their Quality. James is Servant in a great Family, and Elizabeth waits upon the Daughter of one as numerous, fome Miles off of her Lover. James, before he beheld Betty, was vain of his Strength, a rough Wreftler, and quarrelfom CudgelPlayer; Betty a publick Dancer at May-poles, a Romp at Stool Ball: He always following idle Women, fhe playing among the Peafants: He a Country Bully, the a Country Coquette. But Love has made her conftantly in her Miftrefs's Chamber, where the young Lady gratifies a

fecret